There are many problems with pressing concern for Black Christians in America, corresponding to ensuring Black lives matter in our churches, reaching Black youth with the gospel, discipling the following generation of Black church leaders, battling white Christian nationalism, and identifying ways the church can address the impact of racial disparities in our country.
But a priority in my very own life as a Black Christian woman is examining how the church might help Black women remove the damaging mantle of the “strong Black woman.” Living by this narrative may end up in destructive and deadly mental and physical health outcomes for Black women. Add to those negative outcomes the stigma related to mental health issues corresponding to anxiety and depression, and the result is just too many Black women hiding their true concerns for fear of stigmatization.
However, the church is uniquely positioned to assist Black women seek each therapeutic and theological support as we face and address our mental health challenges.
Researchers consistently discover three characteristics related to the strong Black woman framework: emotional restraint, independence, and self-sacrifice. Strength is a badge of honor Black women have worn for generations.
This narrative likely arose from the non-public and cultural experiences of Black women (e.g., in the course of the centuries of race-based chattel slavery that saw us maintaining the family structure while enduring abuse and torture) and the societal demands on Black women (e.g., fighting race- and gender-based discrimination during Jim Crow and aiding the civil rights movement). We embraced being strong out of fear of appearing weak.
For too a few years, I embraced the ideology of the strong Black woman. She could “bring home the bacon and fry it up in a pan.” She didn’t have to ask for help because she could do all of it—she was a successful wife, mother, skilled, ministry leader, volunteer, and friend. She possessed “Black girl magic” and inspired everyone in her sphere of influence. I desired to be this strong Black woman, so I became her. Like so lots of my ancestors, I wore my strength as a badge of honor.
Unfortunately, this strength narrative didn’t allow for the expression of my vulnerabilities or flaws. Instead, I ignored my legitimate mental health concerns in favor of presenting a picture of strength to others. I believed the lie that I couldn’t openly express my struggles with depression and anxiety. I hid my mental health challenges in an effort to keep up the façade of being a lady who had all of it together.
Like me, Black women who subscribe to the strong Black woman ideology may experience acute mental health challenges. For example, a recent research study revealed that depression may manifest otherwise for Black women. According to the study, relatively than reporting feelings of sadness and hopelessness, Black women report self-criticism, self-blame, and irritability because the hallmarks of depression.
The findings on this study align with my personal experiences. I didn’t consider I had the luxurious, as a Black woman, of feeling sad or hopeless—especially in my public-facing life—because those realities speak to weakness, not strength. Consequently, I resorted to criticizing and blaming myself for the issues in my life, which only exacerbated my depression and anxiety.
Aligning my life to this ideology was killing me—literally. I sought to personify the strong Black woman on the expense of my mental and physical health. Living by the narrative of being a lady who could suppress her emotions while independently handling tasks for the good thing about others, whether at home, work, church, or in the neighborhood, was damaging and dangerous for me.
More than one doctor informed me of the importance of managing my mental health, which was having a direct impact on my physical health. Over several years of living the strong Black woman life, I received multiple diagnoses for maladies that would eventually take my life if I didn’t get my mental health issues under control.
In 2015 and 2016, I faced a bout of severe depression. The self-blame was constant. I just couldn’t appear to shake off the sentiments of exhaustion and defeat. I criticized myself because I had difficulty functioning normally. I placed on a fake smile while I used to be in public and continued to serve in my church and actively take part in ministry as I kept my mental health struggles to myself. I knew there was a stigma about mental illness in lots of churches, and I truthfully didn’t understand how my church family would react in the event that they discovered I used to be fighting depression and suicidal ideation.
One day in 2016, when someone at church asked me how I used to be doing, I didn’t wish to be strong anymore. I responded, “I’m fighting depression.” It was challenging to confess I used to be struggling, but I used to be uninterested in faking it—I used to be uninterested in attempting to seem like something I used to be not. I used to be not okay, and I noticed that was okay.
To my surprise, my honesty and vulnerability that day opened the door to my healing. Here’s why: My church family didn’t shame or shun me—as a substitute, they embraced and supported me once I needed them most. My pastor and elders rallied around me and encouraged me to hunt each spiritual and psychological assistance. I shudder to think what might need happened if I had not received their love and support.
By letting me take off my strong Black woman cape, my church family gave me a likelihood to live, heal, and see my value beyond an unrealistic and unhealthy pursuit of strength. And they proceed to achieve this once I face setbacks in my mental health journey.
I think churches, with proper training and resources, is usually a source of community and support for Black women—and all women—who have to remove the mantle of strength and replace it with the blessing of empathy and compassion.
According to the National Alliance on Mental Illness (NAMI), every year, 1 in 5 adults experience mental illness, and 1 in 20 adults experience serious mental illness. These statistics reveal a startling reality—our churches are probably stuffed with people who find themselves fighting mental illness. Even as we profess Jesus Christ as our Lord and Savior, we still face anxiety, depression, and a myriad of other psychological challenges because we live in a fallen world.
I need to supply a couple of ways churches might help Black women who’re fighting mental health issues resulting from subscribing to the strong Black woman narrative.
1. Teach and preach in regards to the reality of mental health issues—that it’s okay to not be okay.
The Bible is replete with examples of individuals facing mental health challenges:
- Cain was “very indignant, and his face was downcast” when God accepted Abel and his gift but didn’t accept Cain and his gift (Gen. 4:3–5). Cain was disheartened—a lot in order that he ultimately murdered his brother (Gen. 4:8).
- After years of barrenness, “in her deep anguish Hannah prayed to the Lord, weeping bitterly,” for a son (1 Sam. 1:10).
- In Psalm 143, King David expressed his distress: “Come quickly, Lord, and answer me, for my depression deepens. Don’t turn away from me, or I’ll die” (v. 7, NLT).
- Jesus said his soul was “overwhelmed with sorrow to the purpose of death” as he prayed within the Garden of Gethsemane, prior to his crucifixion (Matt. 26:38).
These examples offer a crucial reminder: Our spirits are sometimes disturbed and devastated by the situations we face because we live in a sin-filled world. The prevalence of hysteria, depression, suicidal ideation, and other challenges within the lives of biblical characters mirrors the truth of those challenges in our modern-day society and churches.
By normalizing mental health concerns, churches will allow Black women to feel less isolated and more comfortable acknowledging their very own struggles.
2. Emphasize community as essential to the Christian life.
In Genesis 2:18 and Romans 12:4–5, we learn in regards to the importance of community. God created us for community—to live life together, not in isolation. If a lady knows she will depend on her church community to face within the gap for her when she’s struggling, then she shall be higher capable of address her mental health concerns.
By letting me truthfully express my mental health struggles and showing me it’s okay to not be okay, my church family saved my life. I didn’t feel so alone. Churches can stand within the gap for individuals who may not have the ability to hope, seek, or worship God for themselves. Churches have a possibility to literally save lives.
3. Offer empathy and compassion to Black women who share about their mental health challenges.
The church played a serious role in my healing process by allowing me to specific my vulnerabilities and by offering me empathy and compassion. I think the church can function a crucial a part of the healing process for therefore lots of my sisters who also have to refuse to play into the strong Black woman narrative.
One way church leaders can show empathy and compassion is by being open about their very own mental health issues. Another way is by readily embracing, relatively than shunning, a lady who shares her mental health concerns. Churches can provide a protected place for girls to remove their superhero capes by offering encouragement and support.
4. Invest time and resources into supporting women who’re facing mental health challenges.
Finally, churches can offer local and online psychological resources to its members. I’m not suggesting that churches must tackle the responsibility of providing mental health services; nevertheless, churches can equip themselves to readily offer referrals and lists of resources to members who’re facing mental health challenges.
Churches with ministry capability and financial resources can offer training to their leaders—each ministerial and administrative—on the fundamentals of mental health. Furthermore, those leaders who provide spiritual counseling to church members should receive more extensive training on recognizing mental health concerns. This investment could save lives.
Churches are uniquely positioned to offer Black women permission to let go of the strong Black woman narrative and to exchange it for the truth that it’s okay to not be okay. Through community, empathy, and compassion, the church might help women find true healing and identity in Christ.
T. K. Floyd Foutz is an attorney turned Bible teacher. In addition to mentoring and speaking, she teaches Bible studies online and at her local church in San Antonio.
